


Hard Landing

by thisisapaige



Series: Thisisapaige's Suptober20 Collection [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Castiel struggles with being human, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Hopeful Ending, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, One Shot, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Suptober 2020 (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisapaige/pseuds/thisisapaige
Summary: (For Suptober20. Day 17 Prompt: Autumn Invading)⁂Castiel rolled his eyes but the effect was undermined by a tangle of leaves falling from his hair. “I am not weak.”“I didn’t say that, Cas,” Dean said, “but you are human now. You gotta stay in one piece. No more angel powers to put us all back together, remember?”There was no need for Dean’s reminder. Castiel spent everyday acutely aware of his own mortality: hunger and thirst, the need to sleep, the bruises on his skin. Most of all, Castiel was far, far, far too aware that, if Sam and Dean were ever badly injured, Castiel could no longer do anything to save them.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Thisisapaige's Suptober20 Collection [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950343
Comments: 8
Kudos: 132





	Hard Landing

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternative universe/canon divergence where the angels close the gates of Heaven and Cas chooses to stay behind, so post season 8/ alt season 9.  
> [I'm on Tumblr, too!](https://thisisapaige.tumblr.com/)

Autumn invaded Castiel’s senses. It was the crisp, cool air of an October night. It was the freshness of a biting breeze. It was the smell of the earth and the rustle of leaves. 

It was the fact that Castiel landed, hard, in a pile of wet, muddy, and half-frozen leaves after he was thrown by the angry spirit of Liam White.

All those movies Dean made him watch gave Castiel the distinct impression that jumping into a pile of leaves was supposed to be fun. The bruise blooming over Castiel’s hip suggested otherwise. Perhaps the difference between Castiel’s experience and those movies was consent. 

Sam shouted something but Castiel could not hear him over the wind. Castiel could just barely make out Dean’s answering growl then another word, higher and more worried, that sounded a lot like Castiel’s nickname.

Mouth full of fallen leaves, Castiel couldn’t reply. He struggled to stand, his hands sliding across the ice hidden in the leaves. When he finally succeeded in emerging from the pile, the battle was over.

Castiel contributed nothing.

“Cas? Hey, Cas!” Dean hurried to Castiel’s side, his fingers gently running over the bruise on Castiel’s cheek. “Wow, he got you good, huh? I told you that you gotta be more careful.”

Castiel rolled his eyes but the effect was undermined by a tangle of leaves falling from his hair. “I am not weak.”

“I didn’t say that, Cas,” Dean said, “but you are human now. You gotta stay in one piece. No more angel powers to put us all back together, remember?” 

There was no need for Dean’s reminder. Castiel spent everyday acutely aware of his own mortality: hunger and thirst, the need to sleep, the bruises on his skin. Most of all, Castiel was far, far, far too aware that, if Sam and Dean were ever badly injured, Castiel could no longer do anything to save them.

“Hey, c’mon Dean,” Sam said, joining the group. “The ghost is gone. We’re all okay. So, I’d call that a win.” 

Sam had a long red cut down his chin. Castiel’s finger twitched with the desire to heal it but he had no grace. Not anymore. 

“Yeah, yeah, I guess.” Dean bit his lip, still studying Castiel. “We got some stuff back in the car that’ll help that bruise.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel said.

“No, you’re hurt. So--”

“Dean.” Castiel narrowed his eyes. He might be human but he still had his righteous fury. “I’m fine.”

Dean took a step back. When Castiel stomped out of the graveyard, determined to return to the Impala under his own merit, Sam was quick to move out of the way.

⁂

“Cas, you know Dean’s just trying to look after you, right?” Sam asked.

Castiel looked up from the cup of coffee clutched between his hands. The bunker, being underground, was cold. He never really noticed it before. The coffee kept his hands warm, at least. 

Coffee. Truly one of humanity's greatest discoveries. Castiel's need for sleep was strongly at odds with his ability to actually do so but, with a pot of coffee in the morning, he could almost form coherent thoughts. 

Sam sat across from Castiel at the bunker’s kitchen table, his morning smoothie in hand. Sam’s earnest smile almost made Castiel forgive him for speaking before noon. 

“It’s what he does, y’know?” Sam continued, taking Castiel’s eye contact as an invitation to talk. “When he cares about someone, he tries to look after them. Sometimes it can get a little suffocating. Trust me, I know.”

“I suppose you would.” Castiel sipped his coffee. 

“And, well, he’s kinda worried about you.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”

"Are you?" Sam leaned forward, his eyes softening. It was much the same look he gave to grieving mothers in cases. "Cas, when was the last time you slept through the night?”

Bringing his mug to his lips as an excuse to remain silent, Castiel shrugged. They both already knew the answer: never. Castiel had nightmares. He had nightmares about things that happened, things that he feared, and things that never came to be. Most of all, he had nightmares about losing Sam to demonic forces or about slipping an angel blade through Dean’s heart. 

Castiel did not enjoy sleeping. 

“Look,” Sam said, “it’s not just Dean’s who worried, okay? I mean, you keep rushing headfirst into danger. You just seem so lost these days. If you wanna talk, I’m here.”

Castiel dropped his gaze to his mug. He watched the liquid ripple when he set it on the table. 

Falling was the correct choice. Castiel still believed that. Castiel had to believe that. When his angelic brothers and sisters returned to Heaven and closed the gates behind them, Castiel did not join them. He stayed behind, allowing himself to become human. The process was anything but easy. 

The second the gates to Heaven closed, Castiel’s grace was ripped from him. He spent weeks in bed trying to recover from the pain, the ache, the shock of losing a part of his being. He remembered seeing Sam at his bedside. He remembered hearing Dean’s voice. Castiel knew they were the reason he survived. 

“How do you deal with it?” Castiel asked, quietly.

“With what?” Sam’s reply was gentle.

“With-- With everything.” Castiel sighed, fighting to find the right words. “With having a body. With emotion. With--” Castiel ran a hand through his hair. “With Dean being, well, Dean.”

Sam made an amused sound. “Actually, I do have an answer for all of that. There’s a shooting range downstairs. I use it when I wanna bash Dean’s head in. He’s my brother, but he can drive me nuts sometimes. Oh, and the gym’s next door. It’s got punching bags if you gotta get some of that fight out. There are also weights and stuff to help stay in shape. Super useful.”

Castiel considered it. He had noticed his body losing some of its strength lately. “I think I will take your advice. The human body requires far too much maintenance.”

Sam grinned but his eyes were still concerned. “It sure does. I’ll loan you some clothes until we can get you some new ones. C’mon, I’ll show you where it is.”

⁂

Perfect grouping yet again. Castiel’s gun abilities were rapidly improving. He did spend a lot of time practicing, after all. 

Castiel took Sam’s advice. Physical exertion did help. If Castiel tired himself out enough, he could sleep a little. It also had other benefits: he could run faster and further on hunts, he gained strength, and his new “hunter approved” clothes fit better.

It was not perfect but it was getting better. 

Well, better was a relative term. 

Over the last month, Dean had backed off, a little, once he realized Castiel was taking his training seriously. He still coddled and worried but, with a stern glare from Castiel or a word from Sam, Dean would let Castiel do what he must. It worked, somewhat, for a while.

Then, Dean and Castiel had another fight.

Castiel chased after the werewolf because he was the one who had a clear shot. Taking down the monster meant that Dean, Sam, and all the humans nearby would be safe again. Dean and Sam lost sight of Castiel as a result. 

When Castiel returned, victorious, Dean was furious. Sam did not defend Castiel. Dean and Castiel fought in the Impala the whole way back to the bunker. Sam curled up in his seat, trying to be as small as possible, and remained quiet.

Castiel should apologize to Sam for that. 

Three days after the incident, Castiel and Dean had not exchanged a word. If they saw each other in the bunker, they would turn and walk the opposite way. It was a big bunker. They were doing an excellent job of avoiding each other. 

Sighing, Castiel set his ear protection and empty gun on the counter. He closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself to return to the bunker’s pointedly silent halls.

He missed movie nights. He missed the breakfasts Dean prepared. He missed seeing Dean smile. 

He missed Dean.

There was a knock at the open door. Three gentle taps on the doorframe, hesitant.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said. “Sam said you’d be down here.”

Castiel opened his eyes. Dean leaned against the doorframe, one leg crossed over the other, his hands in his pockets. His lips twitched upward, an attempt at a smile, before his face fell again. There was sadness in his eyes. 

Dean pointed to the target. “Look at that. You’re getting pretty good.”

Castiel pursed his lips. He did not reply. 

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna watch some movies. You can join. You know, if you want.”

Castiel stared at his empty gun.

Dean moved into the room, his footsteps slow and careful. “Cas, I--”

“I can’t protect you,” Castiel said.

The footsteps stuttered to a stop. “What?”

“I’m not an angel. I can’t heal you or Sam. I can’t smite a demon. I can’t bring you back if you’re...” Castiel locked eyes with Dean. “Every night I dream of you dying. Every night I think it will come true. I can’t protect you.”

Dean’s eyes shone. “Cas.”

“So I thought that I could, at least, learn how to fight and help you on hunts. That way, I could keep you safe. I could still be your guardian but--” Castiel shook his head. “I’m no guardian. I can’t protect you.”

"That's not--"

"You spend all your time worrying about me. It shouldn't be like that. I'm hindering you. I'm going to get you hurt and there's nothing I can do to fix it."

Castiel flattened his hands, his useless human hands, on the counter. Unable to look at Dean anymore, Castiel stared at the dirt under his fingernails. Had he still been an angel, they would have been immaculately clean. 

Dean took a deep breath, then placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Cas. Hey, c'mon. Look at me." 

Castiel did not.

Another breath, then Dean said, “That’s what all this is about? Protecting me? Cas, you don’t need to do that.”

“But I always have.”

“I know, buddy, I know. But running off like that? Being reckless? That’s not the way to do it.”

“Then how?”

A few moments passed. Dean’s hand remained on Castiel’s shoulder, its warmth and weight a comfort, even if Castiel could not bring himself to face Dean. 

“By staying alive,” Dean said. “By watching movies with me. By joining us for meals. By-- by being here. With me.”

At that, Castiel turned around. He had not realized how close Dean stood, how easy it would be to touch him, though Castiel did not. Castiel met Dean’s eyes, an emotion in there Castiel couldn’t place.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said.

“No?” Dean rested his hand on each of Castiel’s shoulders. “I guess you wouldn’t. It’s not like I’m blameless here.” He licked his lips. “When you said the angels were gonna slam the gates, I thought you were gonna go with them. Then you stayed and--” Dean shook his head. “I realized then, when I thought I lost you for good, that I--” 

Castiel waited but Dean did not continue. Dean stood, searching Castiel's face. After a moment of deliberation, Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and held him close. Castiel closed his eyes, allowing, wanting, needing, the touch. He hesitated at first but, soon, Castiel returned the hug. 

“Stay in one piece, okay, Cas? Just be here,” Dean said. “You don’t need to be a guardian or whatever. Be Cas. Be my friend. Be--”

Dean pulled back enough to look Castiel in the face. Taking Castiel’s face into his hands, Dean pressed their foreheads together. Together they breathed. 

“Be what?” Castiel asked. 

“Mine,” Dean whispered. 

The kiss was soft and quick. 

Dean invaded Castiel’s scenes. It was the warmth of his hands on Castiel’s body. It was the smell of leather and hair gel. It was the sound of Dean’s relieved breath as they parted, knowing that they could start to heal their bond.

It was the fact that Castiel landed, hard, when he became human, only to finally come to rest in a place he could call home, a place he could be loved.


End file.
